The Observation of the Weasel: A Scientific Study
by UntitledN'StayinThatWay
Summary: AU Ginny's decided to play it safe for her 6th year - but that's obviously not what two Slytherins had in mind. G/D/B triangle, may be elevated to M later, R&R to choose who she should end up with!
1. Chapter One: The Anatomy of the Weasel

**Author's Note: Disclaimer,etc.**

**AU, takes place Ginny's sixth, Harry etc.'s 7th year**

This will also be published under my new account later, with the rest. Consider this a teaser chapter. ;)

**Chapter One: The Anatomy of the Weasel**

Ginny waited until Hermione was out of the room then immediately turned off the classical. She carefully tuned the muggle radio to some pop station and continued her work. The signal was weak at Hogwarts, and the radio really only received four channels, but Ginny didn't mind. It was nice to have some music that wasn't the Weird Sisters' screeching, or an equally cacophonous wizard band which seemed to be the most popular genre these days on the wizarding wireless. The song she tuned to hummed quietly, the simple melodic thrum of chords letting Ginny sink slowly back into her homework. Hermione had this idea that classical music was supposed to help one's brain absorb more information - but Ginny had a very different view. If all you listened to were symphonies and operas, you would go crazy, she was sure. Of course, that didn't mean she hated classical music, actually she was quite fond of certain songs and composers - Tchaikovsky and string music she liked - but Handel's Messiah? Not so much.

After a bit Ginny felt she could recognize the chorus, and hummed along. Her voice wasn't awful, but it wasn't exactly the best. Most people were annoyed at her singing - not really because of her tone, more because she had an uncanny habit to repeat the same part of the song many times, because that was the only part she knew.

Ginny sighed, flipping off the radio and reviewing her final product. She smiled: not too bad. A scroll and a half on defensive jinxes for Professor Warren. She carefully rolled up her parchment and placed it back in her school bag. She gazed out the window, longingly, at the sunny Saturday. She checked her watch. 10:02 AM. A couple hours in the library to finish some potions homework and then she could allow herself a rest in the last dregs of the summer sun.Carefully she gathered her books. She needed to start off well - her O.W.L.s last year had been simply par. She wanted to gain the trust and respect of her teachers now - and avoid the unfair punishments later.

With her new outlook on school, Ginny had adopted a new look. She kept her hair pulled back in a tight bun on most days, and was constantly wearing her thick black rectangular reading glasses, in case she needed to look something up or write something down. Her hair had darkened very slightly in the summer sun, just enough to let the garish red strands shine out even more.As it was a weekend, Ginny was dressed casually. Her hair was in a tight high ponytail - out of her work - and her glasses perched on the edge of her ski slope nose. Her bright brown eyes had dulled in her studies. She wore loose cargo khakis - some hand-me-downs from Ron - and a blue Oxford University sweatshirt Hermione had given her when she had grown out of it. Her trainers were slightly too small, and a very dull brown. The only shiny things on her were her hair and her tiny golden locket.

Ginny walked down the stairs to the common room, sighing at its emptiness. Everyone was outside, having a good time. And she was working. Even Hermione was out with Ron and Harry, and it was her N.E.W.T. year.Ginny pushed open the portrait and walked drearily toward the library, wallowing in self pity. Everything was fuzzy and dull, and Ginny barely saw the two figures in time to swerve out of their way. Somehow - maybe the proportion of her prescription - she managed to hit them anyway, falling to the ground with an uncomfortable thud.

"Watch where you're going, four eyes." Ginny looked up and blinked in puzzlement - not recognizing the hazy faces that floated away from her. She realized she was still wearing her glasses, and propped them on top of her head, gathering up her books and assignments from the floor.

She looked up at the retreating head of the boys she had hit. "Of course," she muttered, pessimistically, "Malfoy." She sighed, finishing getting the last of her quills from the floor, and straightened up. They were there. She felt the heat rush to her face as Malfoy squinted at her, attempting to remember exactly who she was.

"Ah. The youngest Weasel." his lips twisted into a sneer.

"Look, Malfoy: I'm not in the mood." Ginny sighed, too tired to put up a fight.

"Weaslette, I don't like you that way." He smirked, "Maybe you should go find Potter -" a look of faux pity downed on his face. "Oh, right, he doesn't like you either."

Ginny rolled her eyes and sighed. "That's nice. Maybe you should come back some other time when you'll get a reaction. I'm too tired at the moment." she turned slowly and continued down the corridor toward the library. She heard a stunned silence in her wake. A Gryffindor, not taking the bait? Unheard of.

A second later Ginny heard jogging footsteps, and Malfoy's companion stopped in front of her. She lowered her eyes and stepped to the side, but he held out his arm, blocking her path. Ginny looked up in surprise. He looked similar to Malfoy - same slick good looks, whip lean and muscular, same disgusting smirk. His facial features, however, were completely opposite. Dark hair, loose and intentionally disheveled, contrasted with Malfoy's white blonde. His eyes were a golden topaz, warmer but harder than Malfoy's cold grey. The boy's skin had a Mediterranean olive tone, opposed to Malfoy's Scandinavian pale.

Ginny looked at him, resignedly. "I told you, I'm busy. Wait a couple of weeks until I'll get pissed at you." she advised.

The boy's surprised frown shifted to a suspicious smirk. "This isn't the usual Weasley girl." He argued, "Where's the temper? The feistiness?" his eyes sparked, taunting her.

"She's busy. I'm studying." Ginny answered, moving to the side to go past him. He followed her movement, blocking her way again. "I told you, I'm busy." Ginny gazed toward the last corner leading to the library.

"What - need to figure out how to make your own clothing?" Malfoy gazed at her ramshackle outfit, sneering.

Ginny looked down again. "Sure. That's what I'll do." she agreed, absently, trying to push past the other boy's arm.

"Nuh uh." He smiled, coldly. Malfoy moved to the other side of him, blocking Ginny's escape.

"I give up." Ginny sighed. "You win, I lose. Can I go?" she asked, gaze switching between the two Slytherins.

Malfoy feigned thought. "Uh... no." Ginny sighed. "How old are you now, Weaslette? Fourteen?"

"I'm sixteen, Malfoy." She told him, "And I have some potions homework to finish, if you don't mind."

"But I do mind." He smirked. "Sixteen, did you say? Can't tell with those rags. Want to take them off?"

"No, thanks for the invite, but I think I'll pass."

"Curious, very curious." The dark boy looked at her, pondering. "No reaction. No red face, no turning to run - not a single snappy come back. Something is very wrong here."

"May I?" Ginny asked, looking from one to the other to pass.

"Of course, little Weasel." The arms withdrew and Ginny walked by, toward the library. She turned the corner and muttered under her breath, sarcastically, "Thank you mister ferret."

"Excuse me?" a voice came from behind her. 

_Oops._ Ginny continued walking. "You are excused," she called back, speeding up and nearing the doors. A heavy hand gripped her shoulder, jerking Ginny to a halt, lurching her back into reality. "What did you just say?"

Ginny turned to face Malfoy, his hand slipping off. "I said," she repeated, walking slowly backward. "You. Are. Excused." And then she hit something.

"I don't think that's what he meant." the smirk was audible in the boy's voice, rumbling against her back.

"I don't think we've met." Ginny turned, stepping back once, and holding out her hand. "Ginny Weasley."

"Blaise Zabini." He didn't reach for the hand. She dropped it.

"Nice to meet you Blaise. Maybe I'll see you around." She stepped past him, entering the library.

--

Ginny found a table in the back, retrieving the book she needed from the restricted section and sitting down with her work, zipping through. "Done, done, and... done." she dotted her last sentence an hour later.

"Let's see..." A pale hand shot down and plucked her essay from the table.

"It's my potions homework." she explained.

"Well, you don't need _that_." Malfoy moved to rip it apart.

"Don't." Ginny ordered. Just the slightest bit of anger began to bubble through her numbness.

His smirk widened. "Ah, _here_ she comes. The _real_ Weasel." he tore a centimeter into the parchment.

"_Expelliarmus._" Ginny pointed her wand at him, and he shot back into the wall, a look of shock on his face, as she grabbed her paper out of the air. "Just because I'm not going to argue with you doesn't mean I'm going to let you destroy my hours of work."

"You little-" he hissed, stepping forward, but Zabini appeared and held out an arm, keeping him back. He whispered something, too low for Ginny to hear.

"Watch out, Weasley. Another run in like this and you may not be so lucky." He warned.

"Zabini. Malfoy. In case you haven't noticed; I wasn't the one who started this. _You've_ been _stalking_ me." she pointed out, the rip in her calm slowly growing.

Malfoy snorted. "That's it - detention Weasley."

Ginny's eyes widened in shock and outrage, causing Malfoy's smirk to widen. "But-" she bit her lip, lowering her voice. "You have no right." she said, quietly, glancing around to make sure no one else was in the library.

"Oh yes I do."

"We're prefects." Zabini added.

"So am I." Ginny growled.

"But you're only thirteen!" Malfoy protested in disbelief.

"I'm sixteen dammit!" Ginny hissed, her hands balling into fists around her wand.

"Prove it." Malfoy crossed his arms, looking at her incredulously.

Did they honestly think she was a fourth year?! Ginny held up her N.E.W.T. level potions textbook.

"Could be an overachiever." Malfoy shrugged, indifferent.

Ginny was infuriated. "Malfoy," she simmered, voice low, "You made my first year hell. How could you possibly forget that?"

"Are you sure you're a girl? I don't remember any sixth year girls with _sticks up their arses_." Zabini pointed out. "And god knows what's hiding under that mess." He added, gesturing at her baggy hand-me-downs.

Ginny _used_ to be known for being rash. Reckless. But she had changed for her sixth year. She'd become more mature. _Sophisticated_. _Wise_. But her next move was anything but.

"Happy now?" she hissed, pulling her sweatshirt back down, and grabbing her things, hightailing it out of the library, furious.

"Man." Blaise looked at Draco once she'd left. "She's a bit of alright."

--

Ginny felt the regret begin to sink through her as she changed into her bikini. How stupid was she - flashing a couple of Slytherins? At least she'd been wearing a nice bra. She sighed, and slipped some of Ron's old shorts and a Chudley Cannons shirt on over her bathing suit. She grabbed her wand, and switched her reading glasses for sunglasses.

She spotted Harry, Ron, and Hermione the moment she could see the lake. They were on a collection of rocks in a shallow inlet, and Ginny smiled, going to meet them.

"Ginny!" Hermione smiled, "You look..." she paused as Ginny slipped off the t-shirt. "...pale. Are you alright?" her face was surprised.

"Just been inside a lot." Ginny shrugged, wiggling out of her shorts and lying across a warm flat rock. Her skin was nearly white, her freckles standing out like constellations.

"You guys," Harry poked Ron in the shoulder. "Look." He gestured to a spot a hundred meters away. "Quidditch game, c'mon."

"No thanks." Ginny dismissed him, too tired to leave her nice warm rock. She heard the other three leave, and breathed in the quiet.

"Hey Gin."

Ginny opened her eyes, and saw Malcolm Cage leaning over her, grinning. "Hey Malc." she grinned back.

Malcolm was a sixth year Ravenclaw, and Ginny's first boyfriend - before she found out he was gay. But she kept his secret and let him court her to keep himself under wraps. He had longish light brown hair and bright hazel eyes.

"Sit up." he ordered.

She obeyed, facing into the sun, smiling. He sat behind her and began massaging her shoulders. Ginny groaned, letting her head hang down. "Thanks Malc." she muttered, sleepily.

"Ooh-ooh. One fine bastard at ten o'clock." he whispered back.

Ginny glanced to her left and snorted. "Zabini."

"You know him?" Malcolm asked, incredulous.

"Not in the biblical sense, but this morning... he happened upon a couple of 'girls' he didn't recognize - as the actress said to the bishop."

"You didn't." Malcolm gawped at her.

"Oh yes." Ginny winced. "I did."

"What happened to wise Ginny? Intellectual Ginny?"

"She was on coffee break." Ginny blushed. "Or maybe out clubbing." To her surprise, Malcolm laughed. "It's not funny!" Ginny protested, hurt.

"Well - imagine his surprise." Malcolm giggled. "I mean: I may not be straight, but I can appreciate a good pair." He said, pointedly, "And you, Gin, have them just right."

"Malcolm!" Ginny slapped him gently, blushing. Being the only girl in her family was a problem. And her chest wasn't exactly a topic she was willing to discuss with anybody.

"Honestly, what size are you?"

Ginny's eyes widened. "I'm not telling!" She squealed.

Malcolm checked her bikini tags before Ginny could fight him off. He sighed. "If I had your body I'd be showing it off. Not hiding it under guy's clothes."

"I don't exactly have a choice." Ginny pointed out.

"Oh yes you do."

Ginny looked surprised. "Really." she said, sarcastically, "And what is your solution?"

"Just give me some hand-me-downs and your measurements."

"Gladly. But if you make me into a slut, I swear-"

"No worries, darling, I'll have a few things ready by Monday - just give me the password."

Ginny gave it to him, and gave him a quick peck on the cheek as he left. He was a sweetheart. She stretched back out on the rock, letting the heat seep into the very marrow of her bones. Sunlight... such a welcome respite from her regular backdrop of the library and her desk. She flipped onto her stomach, putting her head sideways on her arm pillow. That's when she saw it. A certain white-blonde head turning away from her. Had Malfoy just been... checking her out? Ginny felt bile rising in her throat. But if Zabini's lingering gaze was any indicator, he hadn't been the only one. Ginny was disgusted as the Italian boy's gaze shifted over her. She rolled backwards, tumbling into the warm shallow pool.

Ginny sighed inwardly as she floated on the surface, remembering her parents' directions - chest up, butt up, head down - and let the water lap her sides, enveloping her in liquid sunlight. She smiled, eyes closed.

"Well that's not a bad sight at all." she heard the sickly smooth voice through the thick haze of the water, and bolted up, placing most of her body underwater.

"You again." she sighed, trying to regain her nonchalance. She couldn't help but be grateful for the water's protection. She didn't like them looking at her - especially not the way they did now.

"Oh please, continue." Zabini gestured to her, smirking. "We won't stop you."

"'We'?" the way he said it, it sounded like an army.

Malfoy gestured and another group of people crested the rocks. Ginny sunk neck-deep in the water, churning it with her hands. She recognized a few of the Slytherin posse from the Slytherin quidditch team, and some from prefect meetings.

"This is the Head Girl's spot." Ginny said, calmly.

"Says who?" Malfoy asked, sneering.

Ginny waved her wand, sending up a flowing golden script. "Says me." The script formed into the words 'Reserved for Hermione Granger.'

"_Priori incantatum_." Malfoy flicked his wand and the words melted away.

"_Expelliarmus_." Ginny grabbed his wand as it hit the water, then sent up the words again. "You want your wand back in one piece, I advise you to leave." Her face was impassive, neither angry nor smiling - simply blank. "Unless you'd like to speak to the Head Girl yourself?"

"Look, luv," Ginny balked at Zabini's casually used nickname, "We've got a few of our own friends, as well. Like, say, the Head Boy?" he smirked. "So unless you'd like to be reported for trying to reserve unclaimable property, I'd suggest you hurry up and get your freckled arse out of our pool."

"_Your_ pool? Look who's reserving property now." She glared. "And I'd prefer you not make assumptions about my arse."

"Well if you'd like to prove yourself - a la this morning - I'm sure I wouldn't mind." His eyes sparked.

"Once again, I'm gonna have to pass, sorry. Maybe you should ask Parkinson there - she looks about ready to drop trou for anyone." Ginny ducked, quickly swimming into a cove under the rocks as the squish-faced girl dove in to attack her.

The cove was a discovery of her own findings a couple of years before. She had been experimenting with the bubblehead charm, exploring the pools, and had found the small passage to the cove. She came up under the very rocks the Slytherins were standing on, hearing their conversation through the many cracks.

"Where'd she go?" a boy with a slow, deep voice was asking.

"Probably disapparated." Parkinson spat. "Little bitch."

Ginny held back a snort. Apparating and disapparating was impossible on school grounds.

"Well at least we've got the pool." There was a splash as more bodies jumped in. "It's a shame she's a Weasel." Malfoy sighed, speaking quietly, then chuckled darkly. "Who knew what was hiding under that garbage."

"Who cares? I'd tap that any day." Zabini licked his lips and Ginny shuddered in disgust. _Ewww..._

"You'd bang anything with beestings." Malfoy sniggered.

"Those are no beestings - you have to admit she's beddable."

"She's a Weasel."

"Weasel's can be beddable."

There was a second of pause and they both burst into laughter.

Ginny ducked under water, letting Malfoy's wand float into the pool, and then moved into another tunnel leading to an empty pool, and surfaced in the shade twenty meters away. She shivered, and was about to get out when she realized she didn't have her clothes. She swam back to the underground cove, waiting until she heard the Slytherins leave before returning to the warm pool. She surfaced and climbed out of the inlet, dripping. She lay down on her rock again, sighing with satisfaction as the sun dried her.


	2. Chapter Two: The Coat of the Weasel

Disclaimer: don't own; therefore, don't sue

**A/N: **I just noticed the typos in the last chapter, but, unfortunately, no longer have the file on my computer (I have switched comps), so I can't edit it via and am too damn lazy to go through the trouble of reposting the stories altogether.

**Chapter Two - The Coat of the Weasel**

Ginny awoke Monday morning at six o'clock - as usual. She put on a pair of baggy jeans and a BBC t-shirt from Hermione, and then her robes. She was about to go through her checklist for the day, when there was a light tapping at the window. Not wanting anyone else to wake up, she quickly and quietly opened the window, letting the owl in.

"Cosette." Ginny breathed, stroking the snowy owl's head as she took the note from Malcolm.

_Your common room at 6:10 - hurry before I'm caught._

Ginny rushed down the stairs, trying to step quietly, and ran to hug Malcolm in the common room.

"Here you go," he handed her a garbage bag.

"Er... thanks?" Ginny took it, holding it as far away from herself as possible.

"It's your clothes, silly." Malcolm laughed, "The sewing's a little shoddy, but I backed it up with a few holding charms. I was thinking we should try it all on you in the prefect's bathroom."

Ginny quickly ran back upstairs to get her bag, then followed him out to the large gilded bathroom.

"It's mostly casual - some tailored things, but I had some other resources... I couldn't resist."

Ginny could tell what he meant as soon as she opened the bag. "Oh, Malc..." She pulled out the ivory dress.

"It's nothing. I found fabric and all that in the Room of Requirement," he explained, "Try it on, I might need to hem it."

"You didn't need to do this..." Ginny protested as he slipped the silky fabric over her head.

"It's no big deal. Most of it was done yesterday - I told you, I love this stuff." He zipped her dress up, holding her hair away from her neck so it wouldn't catch.

Ginny looked up and gaped. "I love it!" She sighed, looking at her reflection in the wall of mirrors.

The dress was a warm ivory tone, flowing down to her knees. She spun and watched the fabric fan and then slowly settle. There was a v-neck, with folds of fabric around it, and short cap sleeves. The waistline hit just below her bust, giving her plenty of movement.

"It's just a sundress." Malcolm blushed at her amazement.

"Where did you get the fabric?" She rubbed it between her fingers, recognizing the texture.

"It was in the Room of Requirement, but I think it's the same fabric used for the curtains in the dormitories," he admitted, "I used a softening spell on the inside... it does need to be taken in a bit..." he put a few marks on the dress with his wand. "I'll have it back to you by Saturday," he assured her as he slipped it off, handing her another outfit.

"What was this?" She asked, looking at the pleated denim skirt curiously.

"Some of your brothers' old jeans." Malcolm explained. "The pleats took me a bit, but that's where magic comes in handy," he grinned in self-satisfaction. "What do you think of the shirt?"

He had gathered the side seams of a baby blue t-shirt and ruched it to her sides, fitting the sleeves.

"Is this...?" she looked at it in surprise.

"Granger and Granger dental associates." He answered, "But that logo was awful, I got rid of it."

Ginny took out the last three items - capris, a hoodie, and... "What is this supposed to be?"

Malcolm looked at her from where he was marking the capris. "Shorts."

Ginny looked incredulous. "They're _tiny_," she pointed out.

"No, honey, that's how girls' shorts are _supposed_ to look," he told her.

"But... they don't even come down to my knees!" She held them against her.

"Just try them on. Oh, and beware-" his eyes glinted mischievously, "They don't have an elastic waist."

Ginny rolled her eyes, but tried them on.

"They're soft." She exclaimed, in surprise.

"One of those old t-shirts," he explained, coming over to adjust them.

"What are you-" Ginny protested as he tugged the shorts down.

"They go on your _hips_, not over your bellybutton," he ordered.

Ginny gulped at her reflection. The shorts were... short. They hit mid-thigh, heather grey fabric just barely fitting the dress code. "They're so _short_," she protested, squeaking.

"They make your legs look good." Malcolm argued, "Honestly, it's nothing like what Mama makes."

Malcolm's mother was a muggle fashion designer, hence Malc's sewing at a young age, and taught her son much about design and construction of clothing. But she was eccentric. Her work was couture - aka crazy - and that meant extreme. Her shows had garish makeup and stick thin models, the clothes bright and flamboyant or dark and gothic.

"I guess you're right..." Ginny agreed, doubtfully.

"I'll keep working - you'd better get to breakfast," he hustled her out of the room, back in her hand-me-downs.

-------------------~-------------------

Ginny walked slowly to breakfast, not hungry at all.

"Ginny, where were you? This is the first time you've been late all year." Hermione asked as Ginny sat next to her.

"Just talking to Malcolm," she explained.

"Oh, are you two getting back together? I saw you with him by the lake over the weekend." Hermione asked, handing her an apple.

"Maybe," Ginny lied, taking a bite.

"You two were so cute, and he's such a gentleman" Hermione nodded her approval.

Ginny swallowed. "Yep," she agreed, "He's sweet."

As soon as the meal was over, Ginny waited for Malc outside of the Great Hall.

"Ah, Weaslette."

"Find a new victim, Malfoy. Preferably one who cares," she droned looking past them at Malcolm's approaching grin.

"But you're so much fun. Such a tease." Zabini smirked, "And my offer still stands-"

"Ginny, there you are." Malcolm pecked her on the cheek, rescuing her. Malfoy raised an eyebrow.

"Hey, Malc," she smiled, attempting the look of a lovesick adolescent, as she placed his hand on her waist.

"New boyfriend, Weasel?" Malfoy asked, pointedly, "How many is that now?"

"Three. In three years." She told him, simply. "Now, if you will excuse me," she looked at Malcolm, "We have some... business." She tried to look seductive as she pulled Malc toward the dungeons, but the minute they were out of earshot she burst into laughter.

"Are they bothering you? You know about the... thing on Saturday?" Malcolm asked, chuckling with her.

"No more than usual," she lied, not wanting to worry him, "Why are _you_ so excited?" She asked, remembering his grin.

He looked sheepish, "Nothing. I don't even know if it will work..."

"Tell me." Ginny ordered.

"Nope, you'd just get mad at me."

"Come on," she whined, "Just a hint?"

"Not now. Soon though, I promise," he told her, sincerely. "Are we 'back together'?" he asked, as they closed in on the potions room.

"Not officially," Ginny gave him a half smile, "But thanks for playing along." She looked at him, sadly.

"Just don't want to be the fag of Hogwarts," he muttered.

"I know," Ginny stated, quietly, feeling tears welling in her eyes.

"Oh, don't cry!" Malcolm chuckled, weakly, "It's not _your_ fault..."

"I hate that you have to do this," she sniffled, "I hate _using_ you."

"Hey." Malcolm looked into her face. "I don't mind. One day when you're famous I can use _you_." He smiled and wiped her eyes.

"You're gonna be the famous one," she smiled.

-------------------~-------------------

It wasn't until Friday that Ginny got the owl. Malcolm had been refusing to answer her increasingly curious questions, and hadn't returned any of her clothes.

_Finish all work today. Meet me early tomorrow in the RoR - bring more clothes. --M_

Ginny fidgeted all day, losing her focus. Finally, in her last period of the day, she had class with the Ravenclaws.

"Malcolm," Ginny whined, standing right in front of his table, "Tellllll meeeee."

Malcolm grinned, "Ginny: be patient," he ordered.

"But..." Ginny frowned, "For all that I know, you're going to... I don't know. Just tell me, already!" she pleaded.

He smirked, eyes closed. "Patience, grasshopper. You do not chase the fly: the fly will come to you."

Ginny growled, "Thanks, 'sensei,' but I'm not in the mood for philosophy."

"One who holds the stone cannot take it from the jar," Malcolm droned, in a mantra-like tone.

"Seats, everyone," Snape ordered.

Ginny rushed to her seat, still eyeing Malcolm. She _needed_ to know what was up.

"Today we will be working on a metamorphmagus potion." There was some tittering, silenced by Snape's icy glare. "As you all _should_ know, the metamorphmagus potion is illegal. Which is why I will not give you the last ingredient. When I collect your entire cauldrons' contents, I will add the last ingredient on my own. Not a single _drop_ of this potion is to leave this room."

They worked quietly, Ginny frequently sending glances at Malc, who was too absorbed to notice.

"Ginny?" Natalie MacDonald, Ginny's potions partner and fellow Gryffindor, waved a hand at her, "You alright? You seem a little out of it."

"I'm fine, Natty," she smiled, "Just have a bit of an emergency coming up..."

Natalie looked confused. "...Can you just cut that root, please?" She asked, attempting not to offend.

"Oh, my bad." Ginny blushed, laughing, and began to chop up some of the ingredients. Finally, it seemed like they were nearly done. "Aaaand... stop." Ginny watched the time tick by, waiting two minutes. "Finished." She and Natalie raised their hands for Snape's approval.

He looked to be finding any possible flaw, but evidently none could be found. He tipped a small envelope of white powder into the cauldron. Ginny sniffed... no... it couldn't be! The last ingredient was... powdered sugar? "This will do." Snape nodded and flicked his wand to empty the cauldron, "You are dismissed."

Ginny's thoughts blazed in her head as she rushed through her weekend homework. What was Malcolm planning? He was obviously just as excited as she was. It was October first - too chilly to swim... _what was up his sleeve?_

Ginny could barely sleep. Eventually, she cast a sleeping spell upon herself, and could finally rest.

-------------------~-------------------

Ginny finally woke up at five o'clock. She rushed to take a shower, drying her hair with her wand. She pulled on some sweats and her robes, and ran through a list of last minute details. She had a bag of hand-me-downs to take to Malc - check. Her wand - check. Absolutely no idea of what Malc was planning - check. She had made sure she had an excuse - she already knew the prefects who would be on duty.

Ginny exited with her school bag, the bag of hand-me-downs shrunken to fit inside. She left the common room, heading toward the Room of Requirement.

"Ginny!" Allison French sounded shocked, "What are you doing out this early?" Allison was a fifth year prefect from Gryffindor, and knew Ginny from meetings.

"I remembered last night - I left some homework in the library," Ginny lied, "I wanted to make sure I had it - and finished - in time for class."

Allison waved her on, and Ginny relaxed. It wasn't too hard, getting back into the swing of rule-breaking. She found the hall of the Room of Requirement, and spotted a door where there usually wasn't one. She ducked inside, closing the door silently behind her, turned, and gaped.

"Jesus, Malc..." She gazed over the room. It was exactly like the one show she'd seen of Malcolm's Mama. The entire room was white except for the back, where a fluorescently glowing white runway jutted out from a black wall. The floor of the room was filled with racks of clothing - both finished and hand-me-downs. One entire wall was covered in bolts of fabrics, spools of ribbon, and containers of buttons, thread, needles, and other things. The other wall was all shelves of accessories and cosmetics.

"Ginny!" Malc's grin threatened to split his face in two. Ginny could tell that this room provided his lifeblood - art. "Isn't it _perfect_?!" He stood up from where he had been working at a long black table covered in scraps of fabric.

"You're a genius, Malc." Ginny walked cautiously into the room, "But..." She looked more carefully at the clothing on the racks, "... you didn't make all of this."

Malcolm put his arm around her shoulders. "Before you get angry, let me explain." He took her silence as a prompt. "I know you hate charity. But this isn't charity. Mama found a good company - also owned by a witch - that is looking for models. I took the liberty to send a few snapshots Colin took for me..."

"Malcolm!" Ginny admonished, fiercely, "I _don't_ want to be a pity case!"

He covered her mouth until she quieted. "Mama told me when she first saw you she would've taken you if you were skinnier," he told her. Ginny glared, and Malcolm explained, "_Thankfully_, Franz isn't nearly as anorexic as Mama in choice of models. You have the body for it, Gin. She just wants a video of your walk and some test shots with her clothes. I already found a photographer-"

"Colin?" Ginny asked, scowling.

"He may not be a professional, but he's been doing it for years." Malcolm defended himself, "And I knew you wouldn't let me hire someone."

"Malcolm, I can't do this, even if I wanted to. I still have a year of school."

"Just work the Spring and Resort collections, then! You get plenty of benefits - the comps, for one." He gestured at the racks of clothing. "You'll get to keep a good amount of what you wear - nearly ten percent! Well, not the couture stuff, but-"

"Sorry, Malcolm, I can't."

"You're not a pity case. You have _talent_."

"I've never modeled before! I don't even know _how_!"

"You're a natural!" Malcolm argued, "You have poise, posture, attitude," he ticked them off on his fingers, "You walk like a pro in heels, you're skinny and tall, you have a unique look - face it: you were made for this." When she still frowned, Malcolm sighed, "Just give it a chance," he advised, "We've got the clothes till November, anyway."

Ginny took a minute, thinking. "Fine. But only for you and Colin. I'm not keeping the clothes."

"A chance is all I'm asking for." Malcolm began to smile again, "I have some looks made up for you already."

"No," Ginny pushed the dress away.

"Yes," Malcolm ordered, "If you don't do it yourself, I will wrestle it onto you."

Ginny grudgingly took the hanger, hurrying behind the curtain. As soon as she had it on, she opened the curtain again. Malcolm rushed back over, tugging here, prodding there, tucking and charming here here and here. Ginny stood patiently as he worked the dress - he was a master of the craft.

"Am I late?" The door burst open as Colin entered, carrying three different camera bags and a collapsable set of lights.

"Just in time," Ginny smiled, wryly.

"Colin, help me out here, will you?" Malcolm handed the blonde boy a list, not even looking up from his alterations. Colin read through the list, then muttered a few different incantations, summoning from the shelves.

"Finished!" Minutes later, Malcolm surfaced from his daze, and led Ginny to a mirror.

Again, Ginny gaped, speechless.

Her hair was set in deep waves, darker than usual, and gold and orange was fanned out around her eyes, forming a shimmering mask on her face. Her lips were golden, and a single golden tendril wrapped from her neck down around her left arm. The dress was beautiful. The red silk was woven in criss-cross pattern from the sweetheart neckline to the knees, where a red tulle skirt hung in an A-line. It was strapless, the skirt trailing in the back, but revealing her legs in the front, from mid-thigh to the black velvet pumps she stood in.

There was a snap as Colin took a picture. Ginny glared at him, and he took another.

"That's it, I'm not doing this." She lifted her skirt, moving away from the mirror, and Colin clicked again. "Stop it!" She ordered, angrily.

"They're just pictures," Malcolm drawled as Colin grinned, clicking away, "Come here." He beckoned from the runway, gesturing at a set of stairs.

Ginny reluctantly obeyed, lifting her skirt to climb the stairs, and standing next to Malcolm.

"Now walk. Pose at the end, then walk back," he ordered.

Ginny rolled her eyes, "I feel so _stupid_."

Malcolm pushed her, and she slowly walked, glaring at him as she sloughed to the end, paused, and turned back to him.

"Again," he ordered. She started to move, and he began to yell instruction. "Pop your hips! Straight back! Head up!" He ordered, angrily, "Don't _thud_ - heel, toe, heel, toe." She reluctantly followed his advice, but he stopped her again. "This isn't working. Have _fun_ with it! Here," he clapped his hands, and a thumping dance beat filled the room, "Go little birdie -" He grinned, "Fly! Fly away!"

Ginny finally smiled. She followed his instruction, hitting the runway with a smug look on her model face, and working it.

"Good, good." Malc grinned, "Next outfit."

Ginny didn't mind the next one as much. She spun, letting the beige and green skirt spin. It was a halter with a zippered neckline down to _there_. Everything was candy striped in emerald green and a metallic beige. The skirt was short, with a petticoat of emerald green tulle to keep it sticking out. Colin handed her leather gladiator sandals and gloves as Malcolm worked her hair into a single gold-threaded plait, extending it until it hit the ground. A green painted chain wrapped around her neck, links trailing to her navel.

Ginny had fun with that, and the next outfit, and the next. By the end of the shoot she was psyched for another round. "That was great!" She grinned, clacking her white patent leather thigh-high boots together. She was wearing her last outfit - a purple minidress with a large cut-out - and her hair was in a slick and very tight genie ponytail on the top of her head.

"Ginny..." Malcolm looked guilty.

_Uh oh._ "What?" She asked, warily.

"Truth is... those weren't all Franz's things," Malcolm admitted. Ginny was silent. "Most of them were mine."

That hadn't been what she was expecting. "Really?" She asked in amazement, "You made all of those?"

"Yeah," he grinned, nervously, "And..." he took a deep breath, and his next words came out all at once, "I'musingyouinmycampaigntosellthemonline."

"...what?" Ginny asked, confused, as she changed back into her clothes.

"I'm, er... I'm using your pictures to start selling some of them online." Malcolm refused to meet her eyes.

"Oh..." Ginny looked stunned. "...Okay, I guess."

Malcolm looked astonished, "You're not mad?"

"As long as I get comps," she grinned.

-------------------~-------------------

**Review Thanks:**

Zabini fans -

_FangFan22 a.k.a. GwenFan22_

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_Jackie Pappillion_

_elisa_

_Bubbles-ZeeCrzy1_

_Dracoandme - _and, no, I just needed to post it so people searching Ginny/Blaise could find it, too, as the end coupling has yet to be determined =]

_panictowel_

Malfoy fans -

_Soccergirl0388 _ - again =]

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Sorry I took so long, have many more chapters written than typed! Please R&R!


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